


beau-tea-ful

by freckledxielian, ozaki



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Zuko (Avatar), Bad Puns, Bisexual Disaster Sokka (Avatar), Boba Tea, Dorks in Love, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pet Names, Strangers to Lovers, Trauma, anxious gay zuko, bubble tea, detailed description of Pretty Boys, except it's BUBBLE TEA, this should be a tag wtf more boba aus please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledxielian/pseuds/freckledxielian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozaki/pseuds/ozaki
Summary: Zuko patiently waited for the line in front of him to drift to the drink counter and out the door one by one, taking the time to look around the shop some more. When he finally reached the counter, he allowed himself to look at the cashier for the first time.And immediately froze.The cashier was just about the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen in his life.-Famous actor Zuko, who recently disappeared from the public eye, stumbles into a boba tea shop one afternoon. Several bad tea puns later, via the most stunning and dorky man he's ever met, he never wants to leave.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 348
Collections: A:tla





	1. "nuclear explosion" bubble tea

To Zuko, boba had always tasted a bit like rebellion. It had a sugar content of so many grams it would make any fitness trainer cry. It was cheap and common enough that his father and sister scorned it. Most importantly, it was a thing no one would expect him to like.

So when Zuko found himself crawling out of a twelve-hour depression nap to go to the nearest boba shop recommended to him by Yelp, he didn't question it. He put on a simple black button-up shirt, paired with a black blazer and black dress pants because it was the easiest “stylish” outfit to wear, and, in the case the paparazzi were to find him, he definitely didn’t want to hear his sister bitching about his clothes.

 _Speaking of the paparazzi_ , Zuko thought, and almost immediately reached for his face mask, securing the loops around his ears. _Better safe than sorry._

It was always better to avoid being seen, Zuko had learned. Face covered, clothes fashionable-yet-inconspicuous, Zuko stepped out of the front door and began to walk.

He hadn’t been in town for too long, so he needed to read directions off of his phone. Of course, he had chosen the nearest shop, but it wasn’t far at all— only a block or two away.

Zuko breathed in the fresh air, feeling the wind flutter against his clothes. It was nice to be outside, he decided. It didn’t feel as lonely in the fresh air.

 _Uncle would have liked to go on walks here_ , he thought, only for another pang of guilt to resound in his chest. As the peaceful quiet began to weigh more heavily on his mind—almost serving as a reminder of the absence of his uncle’s loud joy—Zuko walked faster, as if boba would cure him of his past mistakes. He only stopped rushing when he stood on the sidewalk just outside the shop.

He tilted his head up to look at the sign. _Tea’d Off_ , it read, printed in cutesy cursive. He felt a flicker of amusement in his chest at the terrible joke and barely registered the little _ding!_ greeting him as he walked through the door. It was a quiet place, and some of the tension in his shoulders loosened as acoustic guitar covers of pop songs wiggled into his ears. The menu items were listed in neat, handwritten chalk above the counter, bad doodles squished in between the lists of ingredients. The very corner of the board had been delegated to “DORK’S BAD JOKE OF THE DAY”, with “BAD” being crossed out and replaced with a scrawled “HILARIOUS!”

Squinting at the handwriting, Zuko read, “The only dinosaur who loved drinking tea was the TEA-REX.” A smiley face was drawn next to it.

 _Yeah,_ the corner of Zuko’s mouth twitched. _That’s pretty awful._

Zuko patiently waited for the line in front of him to drift to the drink counter and out the door one by one, taking the time to look around the shop some more. When he finally reached the counter, he allowed himself to look at the cashier for the first time.

And immediately froze.

The cashier was just about the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen in his life.

Beautiful dark, tan skin, strong arms and _broad_ shoulders with just enough muscle that it wasn’t bulging but still very much attractive. His dark-brown hair was tied back into a wolf-tail, undercut on either side. His smile was fucking _stunning_ , as if he came straight out of a goddamn Colgate ad, and his _eyes_ — his azure blue eyes were a contrast to his dark skin, only serving to highlight how _breathtaking_ they were. When the man turned and faced him and those eyes met his, Zuko’s breath caught.

Zuko had naturally tuned out the obligatory “Hello! Welcome to Tea’d Off, what can I get for you today?”, only thinking about his order, but the sight of the friendly face in front of him robbed the thought from his mind.

“Uh,” Zuko blurted, eloquent as always.

The man in front of him ( _S_ _okka_ , he read off his name tag, before his eyes desperately came up to look at his face again) took it in stride. “Undecided? That’s okay. Do you want me to recommend something?”

Zuko nodded dumbly.

“I personally like matcha bubble tea with mint chocolate chip, and a cloud of cotton candy on top instead of whipped cream,” Sokka said matter-of-factly, and a girl behind the counter nearly tripped over herself.

Zuko, meanwhile, didn’t process a single word ( _Matcha? Mint… Cotton candy?_ ) that came out of Sokka’s mouth, but nodded again anyway, handing Sokka his card. “Yeah, sure. I’ll take that.”

Sokka raised his eyebrows, as if surprised Zuko would go with his suggestion, and his face broke into a wide grin. It lit up his eyes, and Zuko was only a _little_ proud of being the cause of it. “Sweet! I’ll get that started for you,” Sokka smiled, typing up the order before swiping Zuko's card. He twirled it in his hand as the order processed before handing it back. “I’m glad someone appreciates my…” Sokka licked his lips, “Creativi- _tea._ ”

Zuko blinked at him. _So you’re the dork_ , he thought absentmindedly.

Or apparently aloud, because Sokka’s eyes went wide. He spluttered. “H-Hah?”

Zuko did _not_ mean to verbalize that, but the cashier’s reaction was cute enough to make Zuko’s lips quirk into a smile.

Sokka’s somewhat-dramatized expression of shock slipped as Zuko fought off a nose-exhale of amusement. “You’re smiling, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not,” Zuko immediately protested, cheeks feeling oddly warm.

“Mmmhmm,” Sokka hummed. “Sure.” He shook his head, smiling himself. Then he shooed Zuko away. “Off you go! As much as I would like to chat you up, I am unfortunately an employee at this establishment, and you, sir,” he jabbed a finger, “are holding up the line!”

Zuko rolled his eyes on instinct as he went over to the other end of the counter, waiting, along with a few others (some bald kid, and a girl with short hair), for his drink.

When a girl (who looked _suspiciously_ like the cashier) placed a drink (with a _monstrous_ -looking cloud of cotton candy on top of it) on the counter and called, “Zorro? Is Zorro here?” Zuko blinked in confusion.

 _Was that supposed to be me?_ Zuko thought, and looked around to see if “Zorro” was one of the two teenagers beside him. Then it hit him.

_I fucking forgot to tell him my name._

Zuko wanted to hit himself. Instead, he glared at Sokka from across the counter. “Zorro?”

Sokka shrugged as he wrote down someone else’s order. “You didn’t tell me your name, so I improvised.” He looked up from his tablet to meet Zuko’s eyes. “And you know, the mask, the mysterious vibe and all.”

Zuko rolled his eyes again, taking his drink from the girl’s hands.

He didn’t realize Sokka wasn’t done talking. A now-familiar voice perked up, “Unless you’d rather I just call you handsome?”

Zuko looked at him in surprise. “Wh—” He started, then stopped, pursing his lips together. He can’t lose his cool in front of this man. Show him how he affects him. He was _Zuko_. World-known actor. Cool, calm, and collected, just like the headlines said. He sighed, sugary drink tipping slightly towards the worker in defeat anyways. “You weren’t too far off. It’s Zuko.”

“Okay, _handsome_.” He could _hear_ the cashier grinning, and Zuko couldn’t fight the blush that traitorously fought its way to his face with vengeance, no matter how cool and collected he tried to be. In an effort to hide, he turned to the wall, lowering his mask to take a sip of the concoction handed to him.

He could vaguely hear Sokka taking another person’s order when his taste buds exploded.

It was a mistake. Zuko fought not to spit it out. Instead, he made a choked off sound, and then, slightly louder, he coughed before quickly covering his face again.

 _What in the fresh, sugar-loaded_ hell _was that?_ Zuko thought, nose wrinkling.

The line of customers gone, Sokka’s attention turned to him. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, it’s super sweet. You didn’t know?”

Zuko struggled to clear his throat of syrup and regret. “I didn’t understand what I was getting into, I guess,” he rasped, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

Sokka’s face went from amused to horrified in seconds. “Oh noooooooo,” he whined, “you hate it, don’t you?”

“No,” Zuko lied, poorly. “Uh. Okay. Maybe,” he winced. “Not my favorite?” he offered, not quite understanding why he felt the need to please a boba shop employee he had just met. He tugged the straw below his mask, taking another sip for emphasis.

Sokka slapped his hand down on the counter. “You don’t have to drink it! Here, let me—” he reached for the cup. “Let me get you something else, okay?”

On instinct, Zuko pulled the cup out of range of the man’s brown, lanky arms. “No.”

“Wha— wait wh—” Sokka spluttered. He shook his head, reaching forward again. “C’mon, man! Please?”

Zuko opened his mouth to retort, but a feeling like a punch in the chest hit him first. _Man?_ he found himself thinking, _I thought I was handsome_.

He shook his head.

_Why am I thinking about this, I barely know him._

He turned to Sokka. “No, you’d just throw it out. I won’t waste it.”

“You shouldn’t have to drink something you don’t like!” Sokka whisper-yelled, eyeing the other patrons to see if he was causing a disturbance. Zuko had a feeling he had gotten complaints because of his dramatics before.

“But I will.”

“Wh— Zuko,” Sokka started again. Zuko’s heart jumped a bit at hearing his name spill from the other’s lips. “Fuck, _I’ll_ drink it, so it doesn’t kill the environment or your moral standards, and get you some taro or almond or whatever you actually _want_.”

Zuko tilted his head, considering. In the end, he found that he _really_ would prefer something else to a full frontal attack on everything his taste buds believed in via liquid. “Alright,” he agreed. “That sounds fine.” He thought about what he originally wanted to order (before Sokka interrupted his thoughts) and hummed. “I’ll, uh, I’ll take some jasmine bubble tea… if you have that?”

“On it,” Sokka said, taking the other cup out of his hands before Zuko could move. As he walked behind the counter to prepare Zuko’s order, Sokka took a long sip of the drink. Zuko watched him carefully, trying to gage whether the suggestion had been a prank or if the man was crazy enough to enjoy such a monstrosity.

 _Wait,_ Zuko's heart beat in his ears. _WAIT, HE’S DRINKING SOMETHING I DRANK._ His eyes widened, and he fought the urge to shove the drink from Sokka’s hands. Oh. _OH GOD._ His lips were on the straw- _the same straw_ that Zuko’s had been on. He felt the bizarre urge to touch his lips like he had been kissed. But, he thought to himself, it’s not like they actually...

_Fuck._

Sokka, meanwhile, clearly liked the drink. His eyes practically sparkled with the sugar intake. Seeming re-energized, he turned to grab a new cup and _wiggled. His. Butt._

Why the fuck was that so _cute?_

Before Zuko could dwell on that, a new cup was being slid towards him.

Pulled out of his thoughts, his mind cleared as he stared back up at Sokka. “Thank you,” Zuko said politely, taking the drink.

Sokka nodded to him. Then, “Anytime, hot stuff,” he emphasized with a wink. Sokka kept his eyes on Zuko for a _long_ moment (Zuko felt his stomach drop), then turned to greet the next patron as they walked through the door.

Zuko blinked, flushed, then headed out the door quickly, chest warm.

Zuko walked around aimlessly until he felt calm enough to let himself think again, helped along by the refreshing drink. The little bursts of flavor that flooded his tongue as he chewed on the pearls took his mind off of things, but he didn’t want to zone out completely. He wanted to keep thinking about the wild cashier with his impossibly blue eyes.

It was only at this point that he looked down at his new cup.

“See you around, beau-tea-ful,” he read.

Zuko flushed for what seemed like the _millionth_ time that day, tightened the mask around his face, and continued walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked! B)
> 
> go yell at us on twitter ùwú!!! nat [@lvnjingyi](http://twitter.com/lvnjingyi) (freckledxielian on ao3) and car [@ozakoyo](http://twitter.com/ozakoyo) (ozaki on ao3)


	2. iced green tea and a lemon bar

“Earth to Sokka? Hello?”

After three more tries, Sokka snapped his head up to meet his sister’s gaze and grunted. _“_ _What?”_

“Wh— am I _bothering_ you?” Katara answered, irritated now. She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “I thought you wanted to watch _Thor: Ragnarok_ now that we have Netflix, but I _guess_ if you lost interest, I’ll just watch it by myself.” She dragged the last part out in a singsong voice, daring her brother to agree when he’s been complaining about the virus-inducing, pornographic ads on 123Movies (“Which really kill the vibe!”) for _weeks._

Sokka rolled his eyes. He glared at her for another five seconds before he decided, _yes, he would very much like to see_ Thor: Ragnarok _without pop-ups of an animated character naked_ , and grunted again. “Fuck, fine. Fine, fine fine!” he grumbled, ushering Katara out the door as she giggled in triumph. “I’ll be there in ten minutes!” Sokka pointed a finger at Katara, “Don’t start without me!”

As she shut the door, her voice fading as she walked further down the hallway, Sokka raked fingers through dark hair. “Fuck,” he said as he looked at his computer screen. He still had to read through several papers and report back to his professor in a few days, but every time he tried to analyze the cases, his mind wandered back to _that guy yesterday was so pretty, even though I could only see half of his face— his eyes were fucking_ golden _, like amber or some shit, and that shit was_ breathtaking. _If only I could get his number or something, I don’t know, throw a few more pickup lines at him— maybe he’ll like that? I mean, we sort of had like a_ connection, _like a_ moment _back there—_

Sokka slapped himself out of his daze. “Focus! Fuck! I have to get this shit _done_.”

He grumbled, and read through the last article with dread, his mind trying desperately to memorize the numbers and charts and the trends that they showed so he wouldn’t act like a _moron_ during the discussion. He slapped himself every time his thoughts started to get off-track, though it didn’t help much.

When Sokka finally sank onto the couch next to his sister, who was preoccupied with stuffing her face full of Cool Ranch Doritos, Katara paused and quirked an eyebrow at her brother’s red cheeks.

She swallowed the last of her chips (she wasn’t the talking-while-mouth-full type— that was him) and wiped off her mouth and hands with a tissue. She then grinned a cheshire cat’s grin at Sokka.

He immediately felt a surge of annoyance. “What.” Sokka threw his hands up, exasperated. “What did I do.”

“You’re thinking about _him_ ,” Katara hummed as she scooted a little closer to pester him. “That boy right? Who got your ‘nuclear explosion’ bubble tea on accident?”

“I’ve told you before, it’s not called a ‘nuclear explosion’! It’s actually based off of a _very_ popular and— _and_ might I say entirely _genius_ —bubble tea flavor invented in Los Angeles, and I just added a twist!” Sokka huffed, averting his eyes as Katara looked at him knowingly. He hated having a sister. She could see right through him.

“You’re avoiding the question again,” Katara replied simply, “You _like_ him.” She had a knowing smile on her face, just like she did when she guessed he liked Suki, and Yue before that.

“Wh— wha—” Sokka stuttered. He squinted at her. “No, _no,_ I do _not,_ okay?” _Yeah, I fucking do._ “Hah, that’s. That’s very _funny_ of you Katara.” She gave him a doubtful look, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Please, Katara,” he spluttered, trying to preserve some sense of dignity. “High school’s smoothed your brain.” He poked her in the forehead.

Katara swatted his hand away, rubbing her forehead. “Hey! I’m just _saying—_ You have that look in your eye like—” she threw herself down on the sofa, “Like—” she put her hands on her cheeks, “What if he kissed me when I handed him his jasmine bubble tea?” She made puppy dog eyes at him, and he glared _harder._ “Or, or—” she sat up again, ignoring him. “What if— he dramatically asks me out, in front of the whole line of customers?” she hugged herself, “Or, maybe—”

“Fuck, fuck!” Sokka waved her off in annoyance, not wanting to deal with her antics anymore, and Katara giggled, dropping her hands. “Fuck, whatever! Sure, I think he’s pretty! I can’t get _anything_ past you! You win!”

Katara collapsed in giggles ( _more like cackles,_ in Sokka’s opinion) on the sofa as she clicked on the Netflix tab on her computer, finally pressing play on _Thor: Ragnarok_ and ending Sokka’s misery.

Sokka spent the rest of the week hoping to see Zuko again during his afternoon shifts, which meant every time he was caught at the front of the counter, a hand on his cheek as he eyed the door, Katara would tease him.

“Are you waiting for your Prince Charming?” she asked, poking Sokka in the ribs.

Sokka jolted, then scowled at her. “I— I was _not_ thinking about him,” he stuttered, hand dropping from his face.

Katara just grinned at him. Sokka wanted to wipe the smirk off of her face.

 _Whatever,_ Sokka rolled his eyes and turned away from his sister to scoff. _It’s stupid, whatever. He’s just super pretty, and naturally I was attracted to him. The odds of him coming back to this local boba tea shop, especially if he was traveling or some shit, are slim to—_

He felt a hard kick to his shin. Irritated, Sokka shot Katara a look. “What was that f—”

Sokka’s voice died in his throat. Katara’s eyes were wide, and she nodded towards something behind him.

_Someone._

Sokka turned to meet the same golden eyes he’d been daydreaming about.

Zuko looked like the type of person who could sweep him off his feet, in all honesty. He looked like he could play the sexy antagonist in a coming-of-age TV show, with the scar on his eye, bangs falling onto his face, the black face mask. He dressed down from last time, but didn’t ditch the dark aesthetic, this time wearing a black turtleneck and a dark red button-up shirt, with dress pants to match and _was that a fucking Gucci belt?_

 _I mean,_ Sokka licked his lips, raising an eyebrow. _I’m not a gold-digger, but that’s_ hot.

Spoiled rich kid who dressed in designer clothes but couldn’t lie to save his life? Who flushed when Sokka called him handsome and smiled at his stupid tea jokes? Who stuttered his words and fumbled over himself when Sokka flirted with him? Definitely his type. Definitely, _absolutely_ his type.

Sokka opened his mouth, probably about to say something stupid like, “Hey, hot stuff,” before Zuko beat him to it.

“Hi, uh— Sorry to interrupt— bother, but.” Zuko winced. He looked like he wanted to die, there, before Sokka, he was blushing so hard. _Cute_. “Um…” A sigh. “Sorry.”

“Take your time, handsome,” slipped out of Sokka’s mouth before he could stop it. Zuko looked like he was _melting_ and Sokka was addicted. “What can I get for you today? Oolong is pretty popular, so is hazelnut—”

“Do you have ginseng?” Zuko blurted, nervously.

Sokka blinked at him. “Uh, we only have ginseng on special days of the year. It’s… well, a tad bit expensive.”

Zuko looked down in embarrassment. “I… I see. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Sokka replied immediately, smiling. _He’s so cute. I want to pinch his cheeks._ “I’ll let you know when we have it in stock. Anything else you have in mind?”

“Um… Maybe an iced green tea and uh…” Zuko’s eyes flitted to the menu behind Sokka. “A lemon bar?”

“On it,” Sokka said, typing up Zuko’s order and shooting him an award-winning smile. Zuko sheepishly gave him his card, which the cashier swiped and swiftly handed back.

Sokka moved behind the counter to open the door to the display case, and, stretching a glove over his hand, reached for a lemon bar to slide into a paper bag. As he sealed the bag shut with heart-patterned washi tape, Sokka caught Zuko’s gaze and winked at him. “Wait here, gorgeous, I’ll get the tea for you.”

“I have a name,” Zuko muttered, as if Sokka couldn’t see how red his ears got from a simple word.

Leaving Zuko fuming and laughing a bit to himself, Sokka went quickly to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to find the pitcher with green tea. Hands flying expertly, from setting the pitcher on the counter to fishing out a new serving cup, Sokka worked fast but carefully, making sure to balance the cup as he poured the drink.

Sokka pressed on a lid and walked back to the counter, then raised an eyebrow at Zuko. “Ice or no ice?”

Zuko blinked and rose from where he rested his head on the counter ( _Which was devastatingly cute,_ Sokka thought). He parted his lips before he replied, “Ice would be great. Thank you.”

“No problem, and sugar?”

“No need.”

Sokka nodded towards him, removing the lid to slide the drink under the ice dispenser, then drew it back and recapped it. “All set! Here you go.”

Zuko nodded back, reaching for the drink before Sokka pulled it out of his reach. Zuko looked up at him, confused.

 _Here goes._ Sokka breathed. “Do you have a map?”

Zuko blinked twice. “W-What?”

“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

Zuko flushed, coughing a little in shock. He took his hand back to readjust his mask.

 _Fuck, he’s so pretty,_ Sokka thought as he watched Zuko’s blush creep onto his ears. “Heh,” Sokka blurted, because he physically couldn’t close his mouth for more than two seconds. “So my pickup lines _do_ work on you.”

“Shut up.”

“C’mere and _make_ me,” Sokka winked, because Zuko made it so, _so_ easy.

He’s still grinning as Zuko fumed further, ears bright crimson.

Then, Zuko met his gaze and leaned in, and for a second Sokka thought, _oh fuck, oh God oh shit, he’s actually doing it, he’s gonna kiss me,_ but right when they were like _ten fucking centimeters_ apart, Zuko turned his head and grabbed the iced tea he ordered instead.

Sokka fought the urge to pout. Instead, he shot the retreating man the brightest smile he could. “Have a nice day!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Zuko scoffed, as if he wasn’t leaving a generous tip in cash as he spoke.

 _Ah,_ Sokka thought to himself. _He’s so cute when he pretends to be annoyed._

As Zuko left through the door, nearly tripping over himself, Sokka wondered dreamily when (or if) he was going to come back.

It came earlier than he expected.

Sokka’s shift just ended maybe fifteen minutes ago, and he was busy fishing his dinner (a homemade tomato-cheese sandwich and his bright pink (“It was on sale!”) Hydro Flask of water) out of his bag.

Suki’s perky customer-service voice rang like bells through the air. It was artificially sweet, but it made Sokka smile nonetheless, since he knew how low it dropped when she threatened to kick a man’s ass. _Ah, Suki._

Just as Sokka was about to bite into his sandwich, a familiar rasp answered her, and his heart dropped. Sokka stopped thinking altogether.

What was worse than having a crush on a coworker and a customer? _When the coworker and customer interact._

 _Fuck,_ Sokka thought eloquently, setting his uneaten sandwich down on the plate. He had to hear this. He had to know how badly this would end. He knew how badly it _could_ end, Suki and Zuko hitting it off and leaving him in the dust to mope, like he had after Yue had moved; Suki and Zuko complaining about how _annoying_ and _incompetent_ he was and—

This wasn’t helping.

He stared down at his plate, ears straining not to miss a syllable. It was going smoothly, as if scripted: greeting, a greeting in response; question, answer. All good. All normal. All strictly professional, until Suki took Zuko’s card to scan and he spoke.

Zuko speaking outside of what was needed was a rare behavior.

Sokka mentally rolled his eyes at himself. What was this, a nature documentary? _The Zuko, in his natural environment…_

“Uhm,” Zuko said, shifting his eyes nervously. “Do you uh… Do you know Sokka?”

So this was it. His worst nightmare. Cool.

Here was where Suki could ruin him with a single statement. _Oh, Sokka? You mean that obnoxious dork? The one that made sexist comments towards me until I kicked his ass at soccer?_ If he was lucky, she would reply in the cold, corporate response of _I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to disclose personal information of any employees._

“Oh, Sokka?” she said, and Sokka felt the dread creep up from his empty stomach. _Here we go._

“Yeah, I know him. Cute, kinda dorky?”

Zuko huffed a laugh from behind his mask. “Yeah, him.”

_HOLY SHIT. Cute? They. Them. They—_

Tall, dark, and handsome kept talking. “I wanted to ask— this might be a weird question— but uh. Does he flirt with everyone?”

Suki smiled. “Depends on your definition of flirting, I suppose. He’s definitely a friendly, outgoing person,” was that _fondness in her voice oh God Sokka was going to melt like that ice cube he kicked under the fridge earlier._ “I think he mostly flirts with friends or people he wants to be closer to, though.”

“Ah,” Zuko said, and Sokka desperately needed to know what that meant. But Zuko was satisfied enough with Suki’s answer and didn’t say more, just giving her a friendly nod before going to the drink counter, posture relaxed.

 _Hmph._ Sokka bit into his sandwich, chewing as if the answers to _whatever the hell_ that meant could be unlocked through digestion.

As he adjusted his fingers around his sandwich to take another bite, his elbow jutted against his Hydro Flask, which hit the table with a loud _CLANG_ and rolled close to the edge with a succession of _CLINK, CLINK, CLINK_ s. His hand whipped out to catch it before it could drop to the floor.

And failed.

Sokka winced as Zuko flinched _hard,_ jumping as he whipped his head around to the source of what sounded like fucking _indoors fireworks._ Sokka could tell the exact moment that he noticed him, his eyes going even wider before settling back into their natural state. Like a startled rabbit, Sokka mused, before realizing that Zuko would have noticed the fact that Sokka had already been looking at him.

Zuko began to walk towards his small, set-up-for-two-but-realistically-only-having-surface-area-for-one table. Trying to distract himself, Sokka hurriedly shuffled around his food to make room for him. He looked up to see Zuko standing above him.

“Hey, hot stuff,” he greeted on impulse. If Sokka could move under Zuko’s gaze, he would’ve slapped himself.

Zuko blinked. “Hey.”

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Sokka asked, wincing at himself internally. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Sit!”

Zuko drummed his fingers on the back of the chair opposite Sokka before pulling it out slowly. So slowly. It was painful for Sokka to watch. When he was finally seated, he had to fight the temptation to hook his ankles around Zuko’s chair to yank him closer. Instead, he turned back to his sandwich for comfort.

He was running out of sandwich.

As he chewed, he looked at Zuko expectantly, but he was hiding behind his shaggy black hair, fiddling with the lid of his cup. _Well, this was going nowhere._ He cleared his throat and waited for Zuko’s eyes to meet his.

“So, how’s it going?” _Really, Sokka? How’s it_ going?

Zuko somehow looked relieved before he shrank back in on himself. “Um.” Sokka waited for him to continue. “Did you hear? What I said?”

“You mean what you said to Suki?” he asked. Zuko nodded while Sokka’s mind raced. _What was the right answer? Do I lie? Wasn’t honesty the best policy or whatever?_ Eventually, it came down to one question: _What would make Zuko feel the most comfortable?_ “Nah,” he said simply, waving a hand before leaning forward in his seat. “Why? Was it something interesting?”

Zuko shook his head a little too quickly, more hair falling over his face with the movement. 

Sokka let it slide. “Mm, okay. Any other odd questions?” he teased, grin growing.

Looking up through his bangs, Zuko’s gaze felt heavy on his. “Yeah, actually.” 

Sokka breathed in. _This is it._ Suki probably told Zuko something Sokka missed as he panicked into his dinner, and now Zuko’s going to tell him to fuck off. Sokka took another bite of his sandwich. He couldn’t help himself. It was his current comfort food, and he was very much in need of comfort. (His actual comfort food was mac and cheese with garlic breadcrumbs (“One of the only digestible foods you like,” Katara would say, nose wrinkling) but any food worked when it was in front of you in a moment of need.)

“Can I _—_ Are we friends?” Zuko blurted, in a shy, panicked manner that defied every dark, cool article of clothing he wore.

Sokka almost choked on his food. He coughed once, hard. _Actually, I would quite like to kiss you—_ “Wh— yeah! Yeah, dude, we’re friends.”

Zuko blinked at him, before his eyes crinkled.

Sokka found himself grinning. _He’s_ smiling. _I made him smile!_ Sokka thought in awe. _I wonder what it looks like, under the mask._ Aloud he said, “You’re smiling.”

Zuko immediately spluttered, like Sokka expected him to. “No. Yes. Whatever.” He waved a hand in Sokka’s direction. “Maybe.”

“Well,” Sokka drawled. “Which one is it?”

“Maybe.”

Sokka imitated the buzzer of a game show. “BZZT! Wrong. The answer is yes.”

Sokka felt a curl of satisfaction as Zuko’s eyes crinkled further. He couldn’t wait until he could see that smile in its entirety, if Zuko would let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the support recently!!! we had no idea so many people would like the fic, and we hope you'll stick with us for more!!! <3


	3. iced coffee with whipped cream

For some reason, Zuko played Suki’s voice saying _friends_ on repeat in his head, interrupted every so often by _people he wants to be closer with_. It wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for when he went up to ask her—not that he would let himself admit that anyways—and seeing Sokka right afterwards, being greeted by his bright, playful manner, had sealed the deal.

 _Friends_. The word curled in his chest. It should have felt disappointing, made his heart sink instead of float, but it was something. A step in the right direction, as his uncle might’ve said.

Zuko’s tea tasted sweeter that day.

And so he came back, this time sooner than the last, and maybe (just maybe) some of it had to do with wanting to see Sokka again. 

This time, he had a plan.

Walk to the boba shop. Wait in the line, inch towards the counter where Sokka was waiting (he was working today, _thank goodness,_ because Zuko didn’t think he could build up the confidence to attempt this more than once). Make his order. Pull out his card.

Sokka reached for it, expecting to easily pluck it from his hand, but Zuko held on to it until Sokka looked at him, confused. 

“Hey,” Zuko said, holding back a cringe, “Uh, I seem to have lost my phone number.” A gulp. “So… Could I have yours?”

The cashier’s jaw dropped. At Sokka’s dumbstruck expression, Zuko surrendered his hold on the card and Sokka fumbled with it, just barely catching it on its way down to hitting the tiled floor. 

“What. What just happened,” Sokka mumbled, mostly to himself.

Zuko’s first instinct was: oh shit, he fucked up. He broke Sokka. He managed to weird him out, and now nothing would be the same. No more easy-going smiles and cheesy jokes that he liked too much to admit. He’d made it _awkward_. “I’m sorry,” Zuko exclaimed immediately, “I just—” _How do you explain—_ “I just thought—” _That this was how I could get closer to you? That sounds so creepy—_

And then Sokka laughed, and the whole scenario seemed a little better. “No, _I’m_ sorry— I’m just not used to…” he dissolved into laughter again, mumbled something that might have been “cute” and then collected himself enough to look at Zuko again with his eyes alight, shining with tears. “Wow. You really said that.”

Zuko didn’t know how to respond. “Yeah.” _I really did._

“I should let you know,” Sokka leaned forward a measure, face sobering up, “that flirting with employees on shift is frowned upon.”

Zuko’s stomach plummeted to the third layer of hell. 

Zuko immediately felt his cheeks heat up to an impossible degree as he gestured wildly with his hands. “I’m— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, uh— That’s not what I intended—” _Oh man, I’m going to get kicked out. Fuck—_ “Did I— Did I make you— Oh man—”

“Zuko,” Sokka said, grinning despite himself. “You’re fine. I’m messing with you.”

Zuko pursed his lips. Sokka was looking at him all amused, and Zuko felt like he could melt there in his shoes. “I—”

“Hm?”

“I… want to speak to your manager,” Zuko mumbled out, looking away from him.

“HA,” Sokka said, wagging a finger at him. “Good one! But even if you wanted to, I’m afraid I have no idea where the man is. Met him once when I was hired, haven’t seen him since.”

Zuko grumbled a small, “Fine then,” and even though he wasn’t mad, he moved away from the line with a huff.

Zuko was still in the midst of a mini-meltdown when an “ahem” noise broke his concentration. He glanced to where the grunt came from and met eye-to-eye with girl-Sokka— Sokka’s sister, or _Katara,_ as her name-tag read.

Katara looked directly at him. “Zuko?” she called out, maintaining eye contact. “Is there a Zuko here?” Her expression didn’t change as Zuko waved and walked up to grab the drink from her hands.

“Have a nice day,” she said, eyes dead.

He frowned. “… You too?” _What was that about?_ Without thinking about it, he flicked his eyes towards Sokka, who was wiping down the counter, whistling innocently.

 _Weird,_ Zuko decided, as he turned to take a seat at one of their tables. He pulled out his phone as a habit, tucking his mask below his chin to take a careful sip as he scrolled past recent news.

Azula was on the front page of everything again, making Zuko roll his eyes. He wondered if people knew “the television world’s sweetheart” was actually a huge, arrogant pain in the ass. If she was genuine for just _one minute,_ no one would call her sweet- _anything._ Annoyed, he scrolled past all headlines that mentioned her, settling on an article about house cats before something told him maybe he might want to know what his hellspawn of a sister was up to. _Which project was it now? What was such a goddamn big deal that I have to see it plastered on every news and social media site?_

Azula’s picture smiled at him mockingly. Zuko shifted his eyes away from it to read “AZULA MAKES PROMISES OF AN EMBER ISLAND REUNION”. Another lazy scroll down, the article boasted a picture of both of the siblings, a few years younger and arm-in-arm. Zuko scoffed. He’s pretty sure the smile on his face was photoshopped, but whatever.

Anyway, there’s no deal Azula could cut that would make Zuko go back, so both Azula and Entertainment Weekly were out of their damn minds.

Zuko shut his phone off with a click and at last glanced at his drink.

He squinted. That didn’t look like his name.

Zuko picked up his drink to look at the scribbled handwriting more closely, and sure enough, it was _not_ his name. It seemed like a series of numbers instead, maybe some sort of code or— 

_FUCK._ It was a phone number.

 _IT WAS A PHONE NUMBER._ A three-number area code, followed by seven digits. _That was a fucking phone number._

Zuko almost dropped his damn iced coffee with whipped cream. He couldn’t process this. A phone number? Sokka’s phone number? It had to be Sokka, he took his order. What— What, how, wh—

 _Oh my fucking God._ And just then, Zuko stuttering a pickup line he found on “60 Best Pick-Up Lines So Terrible & Funny They Will Definitely Work” replayed in his mind.

Oh spirits, Sokka was _answering his stupid fucking—_ Words. That came out of his mouth.

As he set the drink down again, he swore his brain was going “wow” in varying fonts and sizes.

Zuko opened his phone to copy the number down, and ended up almost pressing his nose against the plastic cup to see the handwriting more clearly.

_Was that a fucking four or a nine?_

_Goddamnit, Sokka, why does your handwriting have to be as terrible as your sense of humor?_ Zuko tried everything outside of actually texting to figure out Sokka’s actual number. In case his eyesight wasn’t good enough—he did have one bad eye, after all, even if it rarely impeded his ability to see—he took a picture of the cup on his phone, zooming in and out.

He felt a little like an archaeologist translating hieroglyphics. 

His coffee was halfway gone before he noticed, too focused on the digits. He found himself on Google images for fuck’s sake, looking at the different ways a person could possibly formulate a number seven.

Zuko put his jacket on robotically, brows furrowed, staring at the cup all the while. It was empty now, the numbers easier to see without a dark brown backdrop. Still unclear, but what could he do about that? Ask Sokka to interpret? No.

Holding it in his hands on his way to the garbage, mask firmly in place yet again, he took another picture before dropping it. There was only one person to go to. 

Mai. 

He scrolled to her Telegram contact and pulled up the picture, typing out a short message and hitting send before he could doubt himself. Mai would absolutely make fun of him, but then she would help. Hopefully. She hadn’t left Zuko hanging yet.

 **_Blue Spirit  
_ ** cup.jpg   
What does this say  
 _(16:21)_

As the small circle in the bottom of her avatar turned green, Zuko turned his phone off and walked out the doors.

He and Mai had been best friends since childhood. They had each other’s backs through thick and thin (thick and thin being Azula’s mind games and their different, yet equally shitty parents), so there really was no good reason for Zuko to still be nervous while speaking to her.

Still though, he didn’t open his phone again until he could feel it buzz in his hand. He was already halfway to his house when he finally clicked on their conversation.

 ** _knife wife  
_** those appear to be numbers, zuko  
a series of them  
 _(16:23)_

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** I know that.  
But like  
Are those 1s or 7s  
Is the 5th one a 4 or a 9  
 _(16:23)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** …  
i think they’re 1s and that’s a 9  
who gave u their # anyways  
 _(16:24)_

Zuko took a little offense at the comment. Maybe he was a little introverted, but he’s friendly enough that people approach him. Right? _Right?_

But anyway, was it safe to tell her who Sokka was? Maybe it was paranoid of him, but Zuko didn’t want Sokka to find out he was some sort of celebrity to gawk at. He wanted to be a normal kid, with a normal crush— _Was that arrogant of him?_ Would Sokka judge him? Is he taking advantage of Sokka? No wait, wouldn’t he be taking advantage of him if he _had_ told him he was a celebrity?

His phone buzzed.

 ** _knife wife  
_** zuko i can feel ur gay panic from here  
give me a name i want to look him up  
 _(16:27)_

Zuko weighed the pros and cons.

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** … fine.  
It’s Sokka.  
 _(16:28)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** do u have a last name??  
 _(16:28)_

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** I  
I actually don’t know  
 _(16:30)_

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** In my head it’s “From the Boba Shop”  
 _(16:31)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** doesnt matter. i already found him  
 _(16:31)_

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_**???  
Wait rlly  
How  
 _(16:31)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** i have my ways :)  
 _(16:32)_

Mai was terrifying. Zuko loved her.

 ** _knife wife  
_** also he and ty lee follow each other  
small world or whatever  
 _(16:32)_

Huh, that’s new, but not surprising. Ty Lee made friends with everyone, and he could see how she and Sokka might’ve gotten along. They were both fun-loving and dorkish.

Maybe he and Mai had a type.

Now that she found Sokka though, Zuko had only one question— if only he were brave enough to actually ask it.

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** Is there  
Like does he have a  
 _(16:36)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** … are u asking if he has a s/o  
 _(16:36)_

Zuko gulped. He typed and hit backspace. Rinse and repeat. On his third round of embarrassing text chicken, Mai interrupted. 

**_knife wife  
_** dumbass. why would he be giving u his # if he did  
but just so u are assured, i don’t think he does, no  
 _(16:37)_

Zuko let out a breath of relief.

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** Cool, thanks  
 _(16:38)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** np dude  
he’s cute lol  
does he know u’re gonna be working again soon tho?  
 _(16:39)_

His excitement was immediately replaced by confusion, like a wave of _huh?_ washed over him. Zuko’s brow furrowed. _Working again?_

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** What are u saying  
 _(16:40)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** …  
 _(16:40)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** azula said she’s coming to get you??  
did u not know this??  
told the whole crew u said u’d be coming back for like a reunion special or smth  
 _(16:41)_

Zuko’s heart was pounding, fury and icy fear battling in his ribcage. _No, no, no._

_Azula always lies._

**_Blue Spirit  
_** What the fuck  
That’s NOT true  
How does she know where I am?  
 _(16:42)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** idk i didn’t tell her, idk how she found out  
she said she talked to u? figured u told her smth  
 _(16:42)_

 ** _Blue Spirit  
_** No fucking way  
 _(16:43)_

 ** _knife wife  
_** what are u going to do?  
 _(16:43)_

_What am I going to do?_

A memory of _that_ day comes into view full force. His uncle standing in front of him, a solemn expression replacing his usual cheery one. He could hear the storm outside. How fucking convenient it was, that it was storming. Like every goddamned script Zuko had been handed, the battle outside mirroring the battle within. Crashing, violent, _cliché_. “Azula is using you.”

The hand gripping onto his phone, her greeting message still lighting the display, falling limp. “You don’t know that,” his voice said. “Maybe she’s changed. Maybe I’m forgiven.”

There was something sad in the way Iroh looked at Zuko that Zuko couldn’t fucking stand. “Zuko, you can’t seriously be considering—”

“And what if I am?” His voice was rough. “Isn’t this what you taught me? Second chances, forgiveness, family?” 

“You’re misusing my wisdom,” Iroh pointed out. “Yes, second chances are important, but you shouldn’t forget why you left. To go back to them is like playing a lute to a cow. You would be wasting your time.”

Zuko shook his head. His screen went dark in his hands. “I’m the one being given the second chance, Uncle! This is my chance to prove myself to them.” He knew he sounded desperate, but he was. Desperate for acceptance, for approval, for recognition. “Azula is reaching out to me, I— I can’t just refuse her!” Shaggy bangs fell over his eyes.

A tired sigh left Iroh’s mouth. “Zuko, it is not you who should be begging for forgiveness. Especially from them.”

Zuko shook his head again. “Uncle, you don’t understand.”

“I don’t?” Iroh’s voice was gentle but firm. He met Zuko’s eyes steadily.

“No, you don’t!” Zuko said, exasperated. He pleaded with his eyes for Iroh to agree with him, to see his _point of view, because I don’t have a fucking choice, Uncle, Azula’s my sister,_ but Iroh was unaffected, staring down at him with the same, grave look.

So Zuko bit the inside of his cheek and shouted the only thing he knew of that would make his uncle’s expression _change—_ to make him _hurt._ “Look, just because you left them after Lu Ten—” he almost choked on his cousin’s name, but his fury pushed him through, “—died, doesn’t mean I have to do the same, _okay?”_

For a second, Iroh’s face dropped, and he was rendered speechless. _Good,_ Zuko thought viciously, _keep your meaningless proverbs and fables to yourself for once. Keep your useless, so-called_ wisdom, _I don’t want to hear it right now._

“Okay,” his uncle said at last, still calm. He had trapped the hurt in his eyes, with which he stared Zuko down. It felt like pity. “Right. Yes, Zuko, you are an adult now. I should allow you to make decisions for yourself.”

Zuko was panting. Why was he out of breath? He felt like he was winning and losing at the same time. One part of him, a small, _weak_ part of him, pushed him to go after his uncle, to beg for his forgiveness, but he shoved it down.

_This is for my honor. This is for my honor._

His uncle turned from him. Got his coat from the couch (Iroh’s hands were shaking, but he spoke before Zuko could comment on it). “I’m going to give you your space. Use it to think for yourself, and I… I will be there when you are ready.”

His uncle reached for the door, and Zuko… Zuko let him leave. He was too drained to move or think; he just sank down into a chair and waited, in silence, for Iroh to come back (because he always did, he always came back, no matter how rude Zuko was to him, he always came back, Zuko _counted on it)._

But he never saw Iroh again. Not in the house, as Zuko waited for weeks on the couch, waiting to hear the clink of a teapot in the kitchen, or anywhere in the city even; he— he imagined Iroh would visit the gardens, or the parks, or the tea shops just to point out how to brew the tea better, but Zuko saw him nowhere.

He’d come back to the same empty house, the same empty chairs. Even with warm blankets wrapped around him at night, Zuko couldn’t help but feel _cold._

 _Uncle, I need you._ Zuko cried into dry pillows on the nights he couldn’t stop thinking, thrashed around in sheets too stuffy in a room that felt too small— but his uncle was not there to comfort him, and it was his fault. Now that Zuko thought about it, everything seemed to be. _Uncle, I’m ready, I’m sorry._

_I should’ve listened._

But Zuko didn’t know how. How do you stop yourself from lashing out when it’s all you’ve ever known? It’s all your father’s done, all your sister’s done— It’s either that, or _running,_ like Iroh did, like his mother did… Running is a _weak_ alternative; he’s— he’s been taught that his whole life. Every time Ozai blamed Ursa for leaving (every time Azula did), something in him broke, but he also had to agree because _how can you leave me here?_

_I still need you, why did you leave? Please, I can’t do this alone._

His phone buzzed, snapping him fast-forward back into the present. The storm of his memories broke away, leaving him back in the dim-lit, empty living room.

One thing was clear in the fuzz of his panic, of his guilt: Iroh was right. Azula _was_ using him. He wasn’t her brother; he was a business opportunity, and she had a deadline to meet.

This fucking reunion special confirmed it.

_What am I going to do?_

Zuko was so full of hurt that he felt numb as he glanced at his phone screen. 

**_knife wife  
_** zuko??  
 _(17:05)_

He turned his phone off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ **plot** has entered the chat]_
> 
> hoo boy! sorry for the late update this time, but we hope you'll stick around because things are about to get **_spicy_**


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